Dreams and Nightmares
by Dark and Death
Summary: The legendaries of a new region, Aristocar, plot to lapse the world into limbo by manipulating trainers Paul and Ash into taking them on a journey to Sinnoh to challenge Dialga and Palkia. A dazzling fic with vivid description and intimate tales. Ratings may fluctuate as fic continues. Although full of fluff that will leave you full. Story will revolve mostly around the legendaries
1. Dreams and Nightmares (Demitrix)

**Death: Welcome all to this lovely pokemon fanfiction created by ParadoxMoon and I! Again, I REALLY hope to complete this fic now that I have the help from one of my personal friends.**

**READ BEFORE YOU READ: Now, the chapters are organized in the 1st person perspectives of each of our characters. I own Demitrix and Virasio belongs to ParadoxMoon. We each take turns writing our own individual chapter and conveniently organize it into this story you see right here! :D You may be able to tell who wrote the chapter by our writing style as well. Anywho, read on!**

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><p>A scream shatters the silence of the night. The ear-splitting, skull-throbbing, shrill that decimates the symphony of the nocturne concert. It's a cacophony, a shattered shriek that pierces through the black like lightning summoned from the sky, and all creatures flee or freeze. The pokemon scuttle under the moss logs or duck beneath the glowing streams at the sounding of the call. I am the call.<p>

An answering howl sounds above the hill-rise and weaves through nature's stilts to ribbon across my hidden ears. Low like the sea, different like the ice, and loved like the ghost.

The silence is cue, the silence means go. Talons are like springs that propel you into the breeze. Wings are the net that captures the current like the sail of the boat, spread and carving to shape the soundless stream. Neck is for speed that spears with the beak to cut and slice the channels through the clouds. Energy is for powering the beat of pinion to slap and scorn the currents that disobey me, the master. Calm comes swift to reward the focus that guides the travel.

I am different than other birds. I am tall, of 17 feet. I am heavy, of a thousand pounds. My wings nurse a hive of eyes that blink and swivel in time with optic ribbons that row the membraned frill spoked with living fingers from the spinal river. I control this with the red wink under the mask of skull. I glow with scaled streaks that electrify the sides of my nape and illuminate a long, feathered tale. The crimson show blossoms on the surface of the reveal of my feathered wings that rely on sectioned membrane to stretch and aid the onyx feathers that mend my avian body. A black and white neck frill ornaments behind my cheek, to flex and flash when the chance sprouts. Finally, three pairs of skeletal arms embrace around the noose of my neck, cradling a massive eye staged center of my chest, closed to shield from the whiplashes of wind that come its way.

I circle and land on the field of war. My eyes contort to the illusion of scarlet stains that taint the emerald blades and bodies limp across the dirt, broken or bruising the ground in dead essence. A blink and it's away, retreating to cower and cry to the corners of my memory. I land swift and fold my blinking wings, the lids curtained to relax in the familiar air.

Across emerges a known specter. He is familiar to me as the earth is to the moon, but as flattering to my eyes as the emotions that drug the heart. His coat is a dark, ethereal blue, and his underside is dark and dusky grey. A build like the perfect merge between a feline, fox, and a horse retains it's infamous stance as blue, clawed hooves ghost above the blades of grass atop a mist of silver smoke, presenting the illusion of his stride. Shards of shattered mirrors bejewel the skull that masks his face while tuffs of black smoke make up his mane and tail, the billows occasionally whisking off into the air as a new cloud comes to repair the unsightly puncture. The antlers of a stag ornament the sides of the skull, sprouting from the ridges of the cranium and bearing fruit to more stained glass tears at the tips. Down his spine is a sharp replica of the vertebrae, spoking out in long, cuspate ivory razors that twitch from the start of his back and end at the birth of his breathing tail.

Our legendary affinity often results in us being followed by companions. A pair of Chandelure drift aloft above his sides while a horde of Litwicks piggyback his hide or hop to keep his graceful pace. I even manage to spot a few Lampents peek out from between his fluffy tuffs and occasionally illuminating his mane, making him look like a walking disco ball for some moments.

My horde comprises of a pack of Houndooms, Absols, and Mightyena marching at my feet as well as my partnered Hydreigon that glides besides my view.

"Hey there, sexy~" I greet in our advance towards each other. Oh, and I should probably mention, we're both male legendaries.

"…" He pauses, blinks, and pivots immediately back towards the other direction, the fellow Litwicks squealing at his abrupt u-turn, attempting to not get crushed by the urgent hooves.

"Nah, ah! You can't back out of this one this time, Virasio!" I declare, leaping over his retreating form to land in front of him as the ground groaned. He paused, desiring not to collide his 16 foot form into mine. We manifested into humanoid forms to continue our conversations.

He was taller than me here once the smoke and ash from our morphs had dissipated from our visuals so we were face to face. His strands of hair were like river silk, a dark aqua that was somehow light enough to appear almost translucent, bejeweled with diamonds trickling down the front locks. His eyes were of matching, like opals buried beneath the skirt of the sea. His skin was paler than mine from centuries of sleeping with the shadows and his lashes long and naturally lovely. His build was fit, but too elegant to be dubbed bulky and proportionate to his frame that happened to be clothed in a royal blue, hooded half-cloak pinned with an opal across his broad shoulders, the fabric cascading down and slice short at the start of his stomach. Underneath was a skin-tight black turtle-neck long sleeve comprising of the same type of material as tights. A lighter, blue scaled hide pattered with hexing flecks of shattered mirrors, fashioned as a skirt sliced diagonally from his right upper thigh down to his left upper calf, just an inch below the knee. The cropped skirt flutters over light aqua tunic pants and blue boots.

"Let's play a game~" I challenged, leaning in so that the talons of my finger-armor claw against the article of his shoulder while the black metal vambraces mingle with the opal upon the cloak.

"What kind of game, Demitrix?" His opalescent eyes are at the ready to raise at my gleaming crimsons and gawk at ear's-length black locks, two of which to the left of my head are dyed a dark scarlet which seems to intrigue him like a leopard to tiger stripes.

"Hmm… No, I don't feel like answering yet," I bypassed his pondering point using the few seconds of silence to inspect his features. I run my hands over the sculpted frame easily with his skin-tight undershirt, the feathers of my half-cloak tickling over the slightly scaled cotton. Mine was different that his, if you can imagine a black, feathered diamond pelt punched with a hole to sprout my head, you're off to a start. If you can picture an additional center cropping of white feathers in a diamond outline and a ruby clasped center of the chest of the garment, you've got the details. "You do know the tune I used to summon you was a mating call right? Why would you even bother to answer that?" A chuckled slipped past my smirking lips as I poked the bridge of his sternum with my artificially taloned finger.

"Well, I needed something to do." He scoffed like it was nothing, shrugging with that smooth, velvety vocal of his.

"Was that something going to involve fucking me?" The words of the croon won his attention and he blinked, and raised a brow before flicking at the strings of my red and black, shelled bodice beneath my cloak and on top of an obsidian turtleneck long-sleeve.

"… Someone sounds desperate."

"Oh, you know I'm only desperate for you, Virasio." I ended the flirtation with closed circle around his form, black silk pants like a wraith as the skirts skid across the blades of grass under a black, scarlet singed triangular banner and onyx boots. "Well, the real reason I came here was to challenge you to a game, a game where we both can end up winning." Not even when our chests are touched and my neck cranes to meet his eyes does his head ever bend over to acknowledge or reply to the touch. He is stone, still, and stiff like those fixed, frozen eyes. "I want to explore the world, and I know you do too, but I want us to be a little more important that tourists."

"What do you have in mind then? Aristocar not doing it for you?" He questioned, referring to our region. I hushed him with a slender finger pressed firmly up against his thin lips.

"I want Sinnho for ourselves. I want to plunge the world into limbo for revenge. All this pent up anger really isn't healthy you know?" I cracked my neck, the vertebrae of my spine tremors with the static that reverberates across the the palate of hollow bone.

"Mmhm, so what's the game plan?" Virasio nodded off, as if I was just bickering about plans for a girl's night out. And the audacity of him to even yawn…

"We'll enrapture some trainers from Sinnoh, make them think we've been caught by them in their pokeballs… or whatever device they use and then we're off to Sinnoh. Easy."

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><p><strong>Death: Before you ask, yes, these are our new, unique OC Legendary Pokemon that we designed and came up with, and yes, the story will mostly revolve around these two rather than the other characters. Oh, and just a warning, we are changing the rules of the game, so to speak, in the Pokemon world. And by change, I mean adding a splash of violence, blood, and gore. <strong>


	2. Plausible Feats (Virasio)

**Death: Now THIS chapter is by ParadoxMoon and is told from her character's perspective, Virasio. **

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><p>The realm of reality and material; the realm of imagination and mirages. Time and space, dreams and nightmares, two different worlds…<p>

It would be nice to see which side would turn out on top.

"That does seem like a feasible plan but…"

"But what?! My plan is perfect." The black haired individual cooed, his chest still pressed against mine, the scarlet highlights of such a collection winking at my visuals. His ego never ceased to amaze me.

"Let me finish Demitrix. I was going to say, how will we ever find any trainers from Sinnoh who would be stupid enough to even begin to think that they could capture a demonic bird and a phantom Kirin?" I question as I push the said demonic bird off of my chest.

"Tsk, tsk. Virasio, you really need to get out more," he mocked, like he had any authority over what I do, "You wouldn't believe how unbelievably empty-minded some trainers can be these days. Anyways, don't worry about it, I'm sure that we'll find someone soon enough." He finished as his skin slowly peeled off to reveal the feathers underneath, and his arms turned to wings which lifted the now towering figure into the air, causing the blades under the figure to flatten under pressure; the figure which now glowed like dying ashes took off, leaving an ominous shadow of his demonic figure over the ocean of trees which was now beneath him. His loyal hounds soon followed his example and ran off in the direction in which the second legendary flew, their bodies soon claimed by the shadows which enveloped them. After the dark typed hounds had left, I myself had begun to return to the lair in which I called home; as my limbs reverted back into hoofed legs and my hair had been taken over by the wisps of smoke that now shrouds the back of my neck. I proceed to head back into the direction in which I came as the ghosts that followed me leave an eerie trail of glowing blue light in the black of night.

The next day, I had just begun to think that I would have no interactions of any sort with Demitrix, not that I was complaining. I much rather prefer the life of solitude, and that had been such the case as I was lying under the vast expanse of clouds. Everything was quiet until a massive shadow passed overhead. I thought about returning into the labyrinth of trees, but some part of my mind knew that a confrontation with the legendary bird was inevitable.

"Hey Virasio! You'll never guess what I found." The hovering bird excitedly exclaimed as he landed in my line of vision.

"Did you find some trainers from Sinnoh?" I jeer, the look on Demitrix's face confirmed that what I had said was true.

"Shoosh! You're not suppose to know what I say," He huffed, expelling a steamy wisp of smoke from the hollow nostrils of his ebon beak. "But yea, I found some trainers that are definitely from Sinnoh, their names are Ash and Paul and they are absolutely perfect in terms for what we need." Demitrix explains, sounding very proud of his newfound discovery and jittering in his stance, looking like he was about to twitch the very feathers off himself from glee. Really, he looked like a giggling school-girl that just got its first kiss.

"And by perfect you mean…" I question, starting to think that one of Demitrix's plans might actually work out like it's supposed to.

"Well, one is absolutely obsessed with getting Pokémon that are the strongest of the strong, and one just wants to collect as many Pokémon as he can, but doesn't seem to be very good at it considering that he only has six. Anyways, both of these two guys are in the region and seem to be heading in our general direction, so let's get them to 'capture' us, and then we can go to Sinnoh and mess their shit up in the process. Sound good?" The demon finished with a coo, eagerly awaiting to get a response out of me.

"I guess; when will we get started?"


	3. A Slip Into Hell (Demitrix)

**Death: GORE WARNING! Oh, and unfortunately, due to the format of of this site, it did not allow me to do some creative lining or indention of words. Don't worry, it is just a minor reduction to the over all dramatic climax of the story and staggers the "creepy" factor a bit. This chapter is honestly better enjoyable on Wattpad. You are able to easily enjoy this artful chapter by searching up in the search bar after searching Find People and then typing in my username in DarkandDeath, and then you can easily find the only story I have on there! XD It will be a much more enjoyable, thrilling experience for this, and the following chapter. **

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><p>"After sunset's glower, the start of dusk." I arranged, flicking the right of his shoulder with a teasing finger, the swift nail knocking against the gleaming, sapphire scales. Of course, the only hope for a response was an upturned brow and the crossing of his sculpted arms.<p>

I wanted those arms to hold me, cage me until I break. I wanted to be raptured and ruined by him just like how I seamlessly dispose of others like soiled paper. I want him to use me in the worst ways he sees fit and devour all that he so desires within me so that I will be no more than a shell of who I once was.

At the sight of frozen blue eyes, I could feel my heart cave.

"You'll be alright?" _I hate that you care. It doesn__'__t suit you._

"Tsk, I'm a legendary. Nothing can come between me and my desires." I promised, and was off in a storm of black feathers, diminishing into nothing but a whirl of dust as a suitable exit.

I coursed across the smooth current of evening, the dusk lathered across the scarlet glow of the membrane of my wings as moonshine painted my black plumage in ethereal spheres. The soul is used for navigation, it guides the body across the air to whatever desired destination, navigating in solitaire, it needs no direction.

And like so, I circle and descend upon the tall, infamous structure of a pokemon center, my fans curving the currents expertly past every extension of the feather and flex of pulsating, scarlet membrane. My landing is as soft as the night and as silent as the shadow as my form is soon to dissolve into living ash. I slither through the winding blades of emerald grass and scale the towering structure.

I know where he is.

Magnificent wings erupt out of the asphalt to halt my climb, the dust smoldering as they cascade in embers down the glow of my plumage before they fold and thrust through the window like how a spirit travels through the broken mirror.

There he is.

Paul it seems, sleeps soundly through the night, hushed under the sapphire covers that only wish could shield me, the nightmare, from him. I am not in my true form as I slink towards his side as a collection of dust and ash, ribboned with live embers and red sparks. He dreams about nothing, his dormant mind is a blank slate waiting to be paved and stained with the blood of his screaming pulse. There is lust in what I do. A maniacal grin is something that can describe it. It is driven and fed only by innocent mischief with a heavy dose of harm that turns the game all too deadly. Ah… And a dash of creativity is always welcome.

It is when my black cirrus reaches just above his sound crown that I plunge into his psyche.

He is drowned in a scene of red walls that pave all four corners, the floor of black and the ceiling that bathes his naked body in streaks of warm, voluptuous blood. He is only curious, the way he turns his wrist to catch the thickening drops and cock his head as it dyes the pristine purple. The red starts to cake the floor, pooling at his ankles, it rises as the ceiling begins to shower more crimson onto his form.

And

then

it

boils.

He screams a shrill melody to embellish the delicious hiss of red steam as scarlet streaks sear on perfect flesh, melting the pale and eroding the smooth of it to ribbons and scissored veins. He is drowning like a plucked chicken in a cauldron of sizzling blood, helplessly yearning for the surface of the ceiling with a deformed hand that is half eaten to the bone.

I change the scene, as he cannot gurgle for long without lips.

He is chained by the shackles to the rust of an iron, barred ceiling expanding across the ebon nothingness. His legs are spread and fettered to invisible weights. He struggles not a second too soon for a cuspate iron spear to penetrate center of his hind. It is

pushed

slowly

through

stimulated by the shrill notes of his cries. In an x-ray I can witness the rip of his prostate, the severing of his stomach as such contents bleed into the tissue and system. Wedged between the lungs, it expands them, and skewers the heart in due time. It slithers up the trachea, chokes the brachial tubes and emerges from the maw, blood cascading down the lips in residue and staining the pearly whites. The frame is picture-perfect, frozen in the torn, twitching pose. I favor the subtle leak of his wet eyes.

I change the scene, for it was fun while it lasted.

He is shackled to the bed, straps of leather hug the wrists and ankles to the metal of the steel table, humbling human strength as his body is spread like a delicacy on a tray. I am above, looming, with a mask and an oversized scalpel. I have no anesthesia, for he is already asleep. I have nothing to numb his pain, because pain is what I wish to see.

I begin to skin the cat. Its struggles and screams do not bother my pace as I slice the the silken surface and pin the folds and flaps to the nub of his boned shoulders. Now when he

writhes

I can see his

organs

jiggle.

Ribs blockade my procedure, so they are the first to go. My hand lands like a moth on his bones and tap-dance atop the cage as he cringes. And then

I

rip

one

out.

One. Two. Three. He screams every time. So I make it Eight and he is quiet. The lungs loll freely without a cage and roll to his breath like bloated sacks. I snip the end of the small intestine and grasp the end of the incision. It is loose, like wet sausage that beats against my palm.

I

slowly

pull

the flesh like the velvety hide of a red ribbon, my fingers smoothing over the plush veins and fat, rewarding the cute with a precious squeeze. In due time, the large intestine follows. I do not like the large intestine, so with the scalpel I slice the center of the bulging, wet pink and I

squeeze

out

the innards.

The stomach is next, and I sever it from the pit and toss it against the stone wall for good measure, enjoying the pleasing sight of the gastric burst and embracing the aroma of rotting fluids. Livers, kidneys, pancreas, they soar out of the confines of his body like children's toys from the chest and bounce against the ground like such play. It is then, when his screams have ceased that I

reach

up

and

crush his

heart.

The nightmare ends there.

He awakes with a map burned in the back of his mind, threaded to the psyche like spider silk, he is unable to shake it away. Throughout the day he is haunted by my poltergeists that lead his trail to our shrine. He walks his pledge on two stable legs that clouds the crippling state of his mind as he nears the two pillars.

They are centered in a forest clearing, the arms of the trees do well to part way in respect to the stone idols it guards. One of the marble pillars on the right is mine, in its carved beauty of inscribed words lit by engraved embers that never die, snug between the stone. _Nightmares _the words flickering with live embers is the heading to the poem that follows and above the gleaming depiction of one such idolized beast. Rubies ornate the frames of the marble and a stone surface below bestows offerings of various gemstones of garnet, ruby, onyx, and obsidian. I see that one was even so kind as to leave the feather of a beloved, departed bird.

_I am Demitrix, the ruler of Nightmares. _

_I cause and guard against the terrors of the night. _

_Offer me the remnants of your beloved lost, _

_And I shall bless the soul a stable rest, _

_But bring me the pieces of those whom you__'__ve come to hate, _

_And their psyche shall be shred in trade for a worthy gem._

And that is an addition to the poem blazed across the stone of the shrine.

I stand behind the throw of my property, reduced to human size and wait for the arrival of two.


	4. The Ghost Of Dreams (Virasio)

**The forth chapter credited to my BFF ParadoxMoon! Again, for more dramatic effect with this style of phrasing see our version of this story on Wattpad!**

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><p>Meet up at dusk. Not enough time for me to bother getting out a book to read. With the arrangement complete, a flick to my shoulder signaled our brief farewell.<p>

Sometimes I wished that he would just go away, but a pest never seems to leave now does it. It always sticks around and the longer it stays, the more annoying it seems to become. His constant blabbering and sass is going to drive me insane one of these days.

"You'll be alright?" I ask, not really knowing why, I normally never concern myself with the likes of him.

"Tsk, I'm a legendary. Nothing can come between me and my desires." He assured, and was off in a mass of black feathers. That was my cue; I had to search for the 'perfect specimens' that Demitrix had spoken about. If one such as him spoke so highly about them, then they must be special, or at least better than average.

Well, this boy, Ash. He's special alright, not really in the best of ways though. But he does gives off an unusually optimistic aura, so at least he can be found with little effort.

The ever present silence seemed fitting as I gazed into the shattered mirrors littering an overgrown house abandoned long ago. I know exactly where he is now. The mirror is a mere pathway for me; I effortlessly slip through the shattered glass and find myself in the shadow of a Pokémon center. I feel his presence nearby, my smoke disguising my presence as I approach the sleeping boy's side. He looks peaceful, a somewhat refreshing sight in this world of hatred and unease, how nice it must be to be oblivious to the darkness and terror lurking in the human mind.

He sees nothing, feels nothing in his slumber. This does not bother me, but if I am going to use him as a test subject, then I might as well have my presence stored in his mind. My smoke creeps over the sleeping body in front of me, and engulfs his body and mind with a collage of worlds and dreams.

Nothing.

Nothing is seen, nothing

Is heard, nothing

Is felt.

There is only

Nothing.

He tries to move, but no matter how hard he tries, no sign was ever given of him moving. Numbness has taken over his body and movement has been long lost. No light is present however much the eyes may try to find it, trying to see is pointless. Soon enough, the flailing body stops moving, neither feeling dead or alive. There is no direction or space, the stationary figure lost in a rift of instability. The oblivion around him settling into all of his senses as his thoughts turn to dust.

There is

Nothing

For him

To see, nothing

For him to feel,

Nothing

For him to think,

Nothing.

Just as the void had infested his mind, a glimmer of light shines through the darkness and the void is replaced with an endless ocean. Just as the black covered his sight before, the shimmering blue of moving water is all the eyes can see. It feels like he is floating, but not moving; He can't move. He cannot breathe, yet his body stays in a calmed state as the water begins to slowly seep into his lungs. I keep him from panicking as the water completely fills his body and his consciousness fades.

The dream ends, and I take my leave.

Ash wakes up with his body feeling surprisingly calmed, almost to the point where it wanted to retrieve the crumbling feeling of the oblivion in his sleep. Throughout the entire day, his consciousness fades in and out, and has no control over where the body is taken. It finds itself in a clearing of a vast forest where the trees lean inward as to pay respects to the pillars of two being revered as deities. The one on the left belongs to me, on it the word _Dreams_ inscribed in mirrors that glow a faint blue. Below it an engraving of the second of the two deities, and a poem. Opals decorate the marble's edges and the stone slate below bears gifts of sapphire, opal, topaz, and pearl; the only exception being a lone candle to honor the loss of an ethereal being.

_I am Virasio, guardian of dreams, _

_I create and watch over the amity of night._

_Bring to me leavings of a cherished love,_

_And even in death will their spirit sleep in bliss._

_Bring me a piece of one whom you despise_

_And ill fortune forever will plague them_

_In exchange for a precious stone._

The words glowed on the marble frame.

I spot the other legendary in his human form behind his shrine and decide to follow his example as the two boys in the clearing begin to argue why the other is there.


End file.
